


Push

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-08
Updated: 2005-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius/Lily, nightclub sex, against a bathroom wall. That's about it. September 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> Written for pojypojy's glorious art, [Doggy in the Toilet](http://community.livejournal.com/erotic_elves/137401.html) (NWS, locked at erotic_elves on LJ). Thanks to dora_the_nymph and islandsmoke for the beta work.

If there's one thing he knows for certain, it's that every time he _pushes_ inside Lily Evans, it's like nothing he's ever felt before.

Not Lily Evans. Lily _Potter_.

No. Just Lily.

Every time they do this, every time they sneak off to some broom closet, or shower stall, or _toilet_, every time he pushes her into a wall for an empty, frantic fuck, every time her body closes around him and he feels that addictive rush of _bad_ and _best friend_ and _fuck yeah_, he wants it to be the first time, and the last time. It's never either.

He doesn't remember the first time. You don't remember your first time with a woman like Lily. She's like a viper, a vixen, a vulture, sweeping through him with those big green eyes and that deep laugh and those clingy robes that show off every inch of her even though they aren't supposed to show a thing, and when she's done with him, he can barely come back up for air. Yeah, that's what Lily's like. But then she'll turn around the next minute and slap him in the face with her softness, her flirtation, her modesty. He's got it bad for her, and she knows it.

He doesn't remember the last time, either. It was somewhere like this, though – somewhere lost and abandoned and secretive, in the middle of a town square maybe, a park, the alley behind the pub. That's Lily. She doesn't want to stay home, she doesn't want to _get a room_, and she sure as hell doesn't want you to _stay the night_ afterwards. She wants to yank her panties down and pull you inside of her as quickly and as deeply as she can, sucking your soul out through your cock, swear to god.

And tonight, _god_, tonight she's got that red dress on, the one that bleeds down her shoulders as she bends over for him, showing him the milky white skin of her shoulder blades and decidedly _not_ showing him her face. If she shows him her face, he thinks, it will all be over. He would know then, _know_, that she needs this as much as he does – that she doesn't keep coming back to these cramped places because she wants to, but because she _needs to_.

Oh yeah. She needs it.

He can feel it now, sliding in and out of her as she clenches around him, her back muscles tensing with each of his thrusts. She likes it like this, he knows she does, but he still wonders why she always turns away, why she always keeps her clothes on. He wonders if James ever fucks her like this, in a dirty toilet stall with fresh ink on the walls that stains his shirt as he pushes back into it, and forward into her.

He doesn't think James fucks her like this. James has never told him, at any rate, that she likes anything other than cuddling up in their white-sheeted bed in a lacy nightgown, then demurely parting her thighs.

"A Muggle nightclub?" he asked her with a curl of his lip, when she showed up on his doorstep earlier that night, with that goddamned red dress swishing around her hips like waves. "Stay here instead." He gestured behind him at the empty flat. "Moony's gone. Come on, _stay…_"

But she just frowned and looked away, biting her lip in that way she has, the one that shoots straight to his heart, and his cock.

He put two and two together then, and reached for the pack of fags in his back pocket. If she was here, that meant James was out, and if Moony and James were both out, that meant…

"Come with me," she urged, pulling on his arm and crushing herself against him, arms around his neck and breath hot on his chest, right where the collar of his shirt was open. Hiding her face. "Wear leather," she whispered, her lips brushing his neck, and that was all it took.

They Apparated, entered, danced a bit, and then. Then. She grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him off the dance floor and dragging him behind her as she strode to the back of the club, past couples pressed against walls and heads bowed over various substances. He followed like he always did when she got this way, when she knew exactly what she wanted and he would never dream of challenging her.

"_Slut_," he whispered in her ear as she pushed the door to the toilet open, grinning into her hair as he stumbled behind her, grasping at her shoulders. _Show me your face this time_, he begged in his head, but he knew she wouldn't. She never did.

She just laughed, like she always does. "Yeah?" she purred, just like she always does, then slammed the stall door shut and pushed herself against the wall. She cast a coy look over her shoulder at him as her right hand fell to her skirt, hiking it up in one swift movement. Their eyes met briefly, but Sirius never saw, never knew everything that lurked behind hers. He never would. She blinked and turned back to the wall, her head hanging low and her voice soft. "_Fuck me_," she whispered.

Yeah, that was how it started this time, just like it always did. He knows he should feel guilty, he should stop, he should realise that if his best friend ever did something like this to _him_, he would tear the bastard's dick off and shove it down his throat. He knows James would do just that, if he ever found out.

But this is Lily – _Lily –_ and she breaks all the rules. You don't say _no_ to a woman like Lily, when she comes up behind you even if her husband's across the room, and asks you to _fuck her_, in that voice of hers that makes you want to lick her throat and believe her lies.

James lies, and Remus lies; why should Sirius and Lily be any different? Any of them could die tomorrow, and if Sirius has to die, he wants to know he at least got to feel that impossible wetness between Lily's thighs before he does – that he _at least_ got to take that perfect Head Girl and slam her up against the wall of a toilet stall, pull his cock out, hike her dress up, and _fuck her senseless_.

And anyway, as he grips her hips between his fingers, pushing into her so hard she has to grab onto the wall for support, so fast she barely has time to rip her panties down her thighs, he can't spare a thought for _James_. If James tore Sirius's dick off after this, well, it would be worth it. That's the kind of woman Lily is.

She is so _hot_, with her back arched like this, and that fiery hair tangled around her shoulders, and her panties down just far enough to make room for him. He wants her more and more with each thrust; he wants to live in her, claim her, _own her_. His shirt tails breeze against her arse with each forward motion of his cock, each _push_ inside her body. Her free hand, the one not holding her panties down, it clutches at the wall and gives her balance as she surges backward to meet him each time, low moans escaping her throat.

"Sirius," she whispers, and he feels it in his toes. "_Sirius!_"

He pulls her down, hard, fingers digging into her hips as she rides his cock, warm and wet around him, pulsing already as she whimpers his name. It's too soon; it can't be over; he needs her too much; he thinks he loves her; she's James's _wife_.

"_Sirius_," she breathes again, and he feels the white light in his thighs, up his spine, through his fingers. She is too much; she will swallow him and he will never be free of her. He pushes hard, again, once more, his cock thickening inside her and his mind numb with forbidden pleasure. He comes hard, clutching her around the waist as he empties himself inside her, and for that moment, the guilt, the promises, the _lies_ don't matter, because this is just _her_, just them, and the fact that they are fucking in a toilet stall because her husband is fucking his best friend right now – well, he doesn't think about that.

He moves a hand around from her hip to her clitoris, keeping his cock inside her as long as he can while his fingers move to where she wants them. She takes a deep breath and shudders, squeezing her thighs together as he feels her orgasm race through her.

As he spirals down he finds he can't let go of her, collapsing over her shoulder and letting his face nuzzle her hair. Her legs quiver and she gives a soft laugh, breathing hard. After a moment, she turns her head as far as she can to the side, wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him forward to meet her in a deep kiss. He can't help it: his palm moves to cup her breast, exposed when her dress slid off her shoulder as he rocked her against that wall, and she sighs into his mouth.

Her tongue is soft, gentle, and suddenly she is soft and gentle too – and nothing like the urgent _fuckmenow_ nightclub girl of a few minutes ago. He feels the kiss in his belly, and groans when she pulls back. Searching her face, he sees – he doesn't know. He _wants_ to see love, desire, even admiration, but he's not sure if he does. She blinks at him with those huge goddamned eyes, breathing steadily against his lips and fogging the glass of his soul. She feels it, he knows she does. She has to.

She gazes a moment longer before dropping her eyes and swallowing hard. She pulls her panties up and smooths down her hair, then hooks a thumb through the strap of her dress and pulls it back up over her shoulder. She looks perfect; the flush on her cheeks is his only indication that she has been doing anything dirty, like letting him fuck her in a toilet stall.

His breath hitches as he watches her, and he places a hand on her arm. "Hey, just-" he stammers, but it isn't coming out right. "What if you- I mean, I just-"

She's looking at him again, and now he knows what it means. In another second, she is pushing the stall door open, pushing a hand through her hair, and pushing him away.

He is stricken for a moment, until he remembers. Oh yeah, if there's one thing he knows for certain, it's that every time he _pushes_ inside Lily, it will be like nothing he's ever felt before. This wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last. He smiles to himself and refastens his leather trousers. Oh no, this won't be the last time. Not with a woman like Lily.

 

-fin-


End file.
